


I Wanted You Mad

by bepreparedf0rhell



Category: Motionless in White (Band)
Genre: A little bit of angst, M/M, a little bit of smut, i'm not good at tagging but uh..., just two idiots doing what they're doing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:46:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22082824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bepreparedf0rhell/pseuds/bepreparedf0rhell
Summary: In which Ricky's getting on Justin's nerves and Justin knows just what to do with him.
Relationships: Justin Morrow/Ricky "Horror" Olson
Comments: 14
Kudos: 26





	I Wanted You Mad

**Author's Note:**

> So, this story wouldn't have happened without the lovely [dysphorie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dysphorie) who always encourages me to be the best weird little goblin creacher I can be and who also 100% gave me the plot idea for this. So big thank you to her more than anything else. 💜 
> 
> But uh... I just ship Justin and Ricky real hard, okay, and I don't really know if anyone else does but here's this anyway.

“I’m going to fucking kill him, I swear to fucking god,” Justin fumes to Chris as he gets his gear set up backstage. A corner of Chris’ mouth raises in a grin and Justin wants to punch him. Or fuck him. Maybe both. 

“He’s just trying to get under your skin. Stop letting him bother you,” Chris says, seemingly noticing that Justin’s not just mildly annoyed. No, he’d passed annoyed about six hours before when he’d gotten startled awake by some sort of weird techno pop blasting in the tour bus at six in the morning. 

“I’m going to throw him off the fucking roof,” Justin grumbles, making Chris laugh quietly. Justin shoots him a look and Chris raises his hands in surrender dramatically. 

“Please don’t. I’m much too lazy to look for a new guitarist right now,” Chris tells him, shaking his head. “Do you want me to talk to him?”

Before Justin can respond, the very annoying little shit in question, Ricky, walks past them with a few other people. Justin glares at him and Ricky locks eyes with him, giving him a shit-eating grin that makes Justin want to just throw him over his shoulder and drown him in the bathroom sink. 

Justin and Ricky have never particularly gotten along, but up until recently they’ve been able to keep it civil. Then, Justin accidentally threw away _ONE_ snack on the bus that was way past its expiration date but had apparently belonged to Ricky and ever since, Ricky seems to have made it his life’s work to keep Justin as annoyed as he can possibly get him. 

“Dude, don’t fucking kill our guitarist,” Chris orders, snapping Justin out of the rage fueled daze he’d fallen into. “While I’m at it, don’t fuck him either. You’d probably still accidentally kill him that way,” Chris adds as an afterthought, and Justin’s eyes snap to him and he rolls them but still allows his face to curl into a grinch-like grin. 

“There’s an idea,” he says, and Chris is shaking his head at once. 

“Justin, I’m fucking serious. If you hurt him I’m going to slit your throat,” Chris threatens, but Justin can tell there’s a smile playing at the corners of his lips. 

“I’m not going to hurt him. Or fuck him,” Justin promises, sighing. 

An hour later, Justin’s already struggling with his promise. Somehow, he and Ricky have ended up alone on the band’s tour bus while everyone else has gone out to explore the city they’re in. 

Justin’s got earbuds in, watching a football game he didn’t want to miss and Ricky’s sitting near him on the bench seat of the bus writing in a notebook, which normally would be fine. The problem lies in the fact that every couple of minutes, Ricky reaches up and pulls one of the earbuds out of Justin’s ear. The first time, Justin managed to smile and swat his hand away playfully. By the tenth time, Justin just sighed heavily and put it back in. By the fifteenth time, he’s fully angry. 

“It’s not funny. Fucking stop,” he grumbles, still trying his best to keep his promise to Chris. Ricky doesn’t say anything and doesn't look up, just keeps quietly writing in his notebook. 

By the twentieth time, he’s fucking had it. Fuck his promise to Chris. He tosses his phone off to the side and lunges at Ricky, grabbing him by the throat. Even though he’s so mad he can barely see, he can’t help but notice how far his long fingers wrap around around Ricky’s neck. It’s… oddly attractive to him and he feels his dick twitch in his jeans. 

When he’s finally able to rip his gaze away and raise it to Ricky’s eyes, he can see that he’s scared, but not very. Underneath the fear there’s something else, excitement almost? Justin absently wonders if this is what the little shit’s wanted the whole time, but doesn’t let himself dwell on the thought for long. 

“I fucking told you to stop,” he growls in his best severe tone and Ricky nods around his hand. 

“I know,” he says quietly, and Justin tightens his hand, still keeping it loose enough that there won’t be any bruising. He doesn’t want to hear it from Chris. 

“I didn’t fucking tell you you could talk, did I?” he demands, and Ricky shifts underneath him. Justin lowers his glance to see the pronounced shape of his cock in his jeans. Apparently this _is_ what he’d wanted. Ricky shakes his head silently. 

Justin shoves Ricky backwards, letting go of his throat but keeping a deadly gaze on him. He unzips his jeans and pulls them and his underwear down, exposing his fully ready and waiting dick. Ricky looks at it like he’s about ready to salivate and Justin has to take a deep breath to keep from getting too worked up before Ricky’s even touched him. He’s always found Ricky attractive even when he was driving him crazy, but as he sits there and looks at him like he’s the most delicious thing he’s ever seen, it almost makes his knees go weak. 

Though Justin has got a temper on him, he’s never really done anything quite like this and is making it up as he goes, hoping Ricky won’t notice. He thinks for a second and then steadies himself before looking back up at Ricky.

“Do you want it?” Justin asks, his voice low and gravelly. Ricky nods eagerly, so Justin takes a fistful of his long hair and pulls him closer. “You’ve wanted it this whole fucking time, haven’t you?” he questions and again, Ricky nods immediately. “Fine. Take it,” he tells him finally, pulling Ricky’s head even closer. 

Justin can’t help but gasp when Ricky’s lips first touch him. He takes his cock all the way into his mouth at once and Justin feels it hit the back of his throat and almost falls right the fuck over then and there. Ricky’s clearly done this before and now Justin understands why Chris said he’d probably accidentally kill him if he fucked him. They’re only approximately three seconds in and already Justin wants to crush his head like a grape because he’s making him feel so damn good. 

Ricky starts rocking back and forth, taking Justin’s dick all the way out of his mouth before pushing it all the way back in and Justin’s pretty sure he’s about to have a brain aneurysm at any moment. He’s doing everything he possibly can not to blow his load too soon; he wants this to last, wants to feel Ricky on him for as long as possible. 

“Stop,” he grits out a few minutes later, sighing raggedly as Ricky freezes, Justin’s dick still halfway in his mouth. His blue eyes shift upward to look at him through his long eyelashes and Justin jerks his hips so that he falls out of Ricky’s mouth, pulling him up and off of the bench seat in one swift movement. Ricky makes a small noise of surprise at the motion and stands there looking at Justin with his lips irresistibly swollen and his face flushed. 

Justin had wanted to keep this rough and demanding, he really had, but as he stands there looking down at Ricky, their dramatic height difference glaringly obvious, it’s hard for him to do so. Ricky’s fucking beautiful, he really is, and he’s so goddamn delicate. Justin wraps his hands around his biceps and they wrap almost all the way around them. It’s not quite as good as his throat, but it still makes Justin’s dick twitch dramatically between them. 

Fuck it, Justin thinks, leaning down so that he can crash his lips onto Ricky’s. He kisses him roughly and Ricky returns it with passion. Justin bites Ricky’s bottom lip hard and Ricky lets out a little moan that makes Justin lightheaded. 

He leaves Ricky’s lips, trailing hard bites down his jawline and neck, no longer thinking about the fact that he hadn’t wanted to bruise him. Now, all he wants is to bruise him, to mark him and let everyone know he’s been here. Ricky eats it up, quiet moans and other various noises escaping his lips every time Justin’s teeth sink into his skin. Just above Ricky’s collarbone, Justin bites so hard that he draws a drop of coppery blood and has to stop himself from going even harder. 

Ricky shifts in his grasp and he can’t tell if it’s from discomfort or horniness or maybe both, but either way, though he’s done biting Justin’s still not done with Ricky. He releases his hold on his biceps and pushes him down by his shoulders roughly so that he’s back sitting on the bench seat. 

“Make me come,” he commands, and in a second Ricky’s lips are back on him, shoving him all the way to the back of his throat again. Justin bucks his hips forward unintentionally and hits Ricky’s gag reflex, making him cough just slightly. Normally, Justin would immediately pull out and make sure he’s okay, but Ricky doesn’t seem to miss a beat, his lips and tongue still working just as hard as they were a moment before. 

“Fucking christ,” Justin groans, getting closer by the second. He wrenches his hips forward again, this time on purpose, and Ricky chokes around his dick but again doesn’t stop for a second. 

“I’m… oh fuck, don’t stop. Don’t you fucking stop,” Justin pants, and a second later both his fists curl back into Ricky’s hair and he’s pushing him forward onto his dick without really meaning to but he can’t stop himself because… he groans as he comes into the back of Ricky’s throat, making him gag again. 

Ricky seems to barely notice his body’s reaction to what’s happening and works Justin through the waves of the orgasm and down off of the high. When he finally pulls his lips off of him, Justin feels like he’s about to pass out. Somehow, he keeps himself upright and pulls up his pants, zipping them and refastening his belt. 

“You’re a fucking asshole,” he says to Ricky, who immediately shrugs. 

“Whatever. I wanted you mad, I wanted your dick. I got what I wanted,” Ricky tells him nonchalantly, and Justin can’t help himself from reaching for Ricky’s throat and taking it firmly in his hand again. 

“I didn’t tell you you could talk, did I?” he growls, and Ricky smirks but shakes his head anyway. “Don’t think I won’t shove my dick down your throat just to get you to shut the fuck up again.”

Ricky nods, and Justin holds him for a second longer, resisting the urge to kiss him again. Instead, he shoves him backward and then turns and promptly leaves the bus. Suddenly, he’s fucking starving.

**Author's Note:**

> wheresyoursavior.tumblr.com


End file.
